


The Darkness

by pennedbymazoji



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Cannibalism, Caring Hannibal Lecter, Community: hannibalkink, F/M, Hannibal Lecter Being an Asshole, Memory Loss, NSFW, Protective Hannibal Lecter, Reader-Insert, Semi-Public Sex, i just want to fuck hannibal lecter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 09:08:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21205787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennedbymazoji/pseuds/pennedbymazoji
Summary: You wake up to find yourself on the set of Hannibal- or, to be more specific, inside the universe of Hannibal. How did you get here, and why?





	1. Chapter 1

Your eyes slowly blinked open, squinting to shield themselves from the sunlight shining through your window. With a groan, you shut your eyes and turned your back to the sunlight. You pulled the fleece blanket closer, feeling your skin slide on the sheets. You were on the verge of succumbing to the darkness of sleep once more when the alarm clock loudly went off.

You snapped awake, sitting almost straight up. The light blue walls softly reflected the sunlight, and the shelves lining the opposite wall were neatly lined with ornamental baubles. A plain wooden desk was placed in the far corner, the surface covered with a haphazard mess of electronics and papers, in a stark contrast with the expertly arranged knick knacks. You directed your eyes to your current location, a modest bed with dark blue sheets. To your right was a small bedside table, holding only an alarm clock and your cell phone. The clock read 9:00 am. Did you drink last night? You remembered having a single glass of wine before heading off to bed, but you were home. The most plausible explanation for you being in this room was that you had drunkenly stumbled off with someone to their house, but that couldn’t have been the case. You grabbed your phone off the nightstand. The passcode was the same. Your background was the same. You opened up your text messages to find your inbox cleared as you swore quietly to yourself. You hoped your text messages would have painted a clearer picture of the night before. You quickly tapped on your contacts list, scrolling through the list to find your roommate, but she wasn’t listed. Instead, your contacts had been replaced by a list of unfamiliar names.

Alana… Bella... Beverly… Brian…

You scrolled through the list, becoming increasingly more frustrated as each name scrolled by.

Jack… Jimmy…

You threw your phone down in annoyance, letting out a huff. You had to be misremembering last night. You must have gone out with your friends and gotten a bit too tipsy. One of your friends altered the names in your contacts list as a joke, and you ended up going home with a guy. You shook your head as if to clear it as you slipped out of bed, your bare feet pressing against the cold hardwood beneath them. At least you were decently dressed. You slinked over to the door, opening it ever so slightly, and peered outside.

“Just in time for breakfast.”

A male voice directed your eyes towards a small kitchen area that looked strikingly familiar. A man with disheveled brown hair was hunched over the stove. He was clothed in jeans and a green and black flannel, eyes focused on the pan in front of him. Was this the guy you went home with last night? You opened the door an inch wider only to suddenly be surrounded by dogs. You reached down cautiously to pet them, a small smile gracing your lips.

“They’re excited that you’re awake. You tapped out pretty early last night.” Your eyes rose to once again to look at the man by the stove, honored that he was at least kind enough to make you breakfast. He had turned around to face you and set two plates on the table before him. You blinked rapidly, your brain desperately working to process what you were seeing.

_Holy fuck,_ you thought, your body frozen._ Is that Hugh Dancy? _

“I’m sure you’re hungover,” he laughed as he beckoned you towards the table. “Do you need a summary of the present? I’m your brother Will, we live in Wolf Trap, Virginia…”

“Stop.” You glared at him before walking to the table and plopping down in your chair. _Wow, I didn’t know dreams could be this vivid._

“Don’t act so grumpy.” He ruffled your hair and nudged you towards your plate. “Please, eat. It will help with the hangover.” You looked down at your plate, nearly overflowing with pancakes. You couldn’t deny that you were hungry, so you gratefully devoured the food Hugh… Will had prepared for you. “You really shouldn’t drink so much,” he began again as he scarfed down his pancakes. “Alana needs to take better care of you when you go out.”

“I know, but you can’t blame her for my actions,” you groaned. You figured that you might as well play in to the dream. “I might stay home today, nurse my hangover.” Will nodded.

“I’m sure Sam can take care of the bodies on her own. It’s not like they’re going anywhere. We shouldn’t need you to come in unless we get a new one.” He finished his pancakes and stood up, taking his plate to the sink. “You should try and get a nap in, you’ll feel better when you wake up.” You nodded and stood up from the table as Will removed your plate and began to wash the dishes.

You made your way back to the room that you had woken up in, shutting the door softly. You walked over to the shelves and examined their contents closely. Every trinket was something that you would have collected, from a Mickey Mouse pin to a large slab of amethyst. The papers strewn on the desk were miscellaneous recipes, notes, and unopened mail. You flipped the laptop open, and the display turned a muted black as the machine whirred to life. The desktop finally appeared, your most recent activity showing on the screen: a Google search for Dr. Hannibal Lecter. You inhaled sharply.

_Damn, even in my dreams I’m thirsty for him._ You shut the laptop and wandered back towards the bed. _I normally don’t dream this vividly. This feels excruciatingly real._ You flopped back down on the bed._ I guess I might as well make the most of it._ You desperately tried to will the dream to change. You envisioned flying, maybe stopping in the Harry Potter universe, anything that you could imagine. The dream never changed. You remained on this unfamiliar bed, annoyed with your inability to even lucid dream correctly.

“Hey, I’m heading to work.” Will’s voice was just outside the door. “The dogs will keep you company until I get home.”

“Okay, thanks Will,” you called back. You heard footsteps getting farther and farther away before a door slammed closed. You wandered back out to the main room to play with the dogs. Winston was particularly loving, curling up at your side and content to just be close. The other dogs were more interested in playing than cuddling, so you played some small games of fetch with them.

Time flew by, and the next time you glanced at the clock it was noon.

_ I guess I might as well see what happens if I go back to sleep_, you pondered._ I might wake up._ You made your way back to your bedroom, jerked the curtains closed, and settled into the bed. You closed your eyes and found yourself drifting off within minutes, wishing this dream goodbye.

You awoke to the sound of pawing at your door. You lazily stretched, sitting up slowly._ I’m still here._ You glanced around the light blue room again, the walls slightly more dull in the setting sun. You glanced at the alarm clock. It displayed 4:00 pm in bright red. _Might as well make the most of it._

You sauntered over to the door, opening it to see Winston staring up at you with big eyes. You chuckled and scratched his ears, walking towards the front door. The dogs jumped up and followed you, bouncing excitedly. They ran outside as soon as you opened the door, happily barking and running around the yard.

You walked over to the bookshelves lining the walls and surveyed the collection of books stored there. Stephen King, crime novels, textbooks, a few fantasy series scattered here and there. You finally found something worth looking through- a photo album. You pulled it down from the shelf and settled down in a chair. There were the typical photos that anyone would expect: a few pictures of you and Will fishing, pictures from the beach with Will buried in the sand and you making funny faces at the camera. There were pictures of you smiling and holding a piece of paper up to the camera, dressed in a professional suit and standing against a plain background. You squinted so you could make out what was on the paper. The Baltimore Institute of Mortuary Science. You raised your eyebrows. You’d always been fascinated with death practices, and it was manifesting in your dreams.

With the help of the photo album and some quick research on your phone, you were able to piece together the fragments of your dream life into a reasonably clear storyline. As far as you could tell, you were Will’s biological sister. There was no sign of your mother, and very few signs of your father. It seemed that Will had raised you, rather than a parental figure. You had no desire to separate once you became an adult- you were each other’s support system. A cohesive unit that kept both of you stable. Will went on to become a police officer, and eventually ended up with the FBI. You went to mortuary school, and were a relatively successful mortician who assisted the FBI, preparing the bodies to be seen by suspects, witnesses, and families.

The sound of the door opening and the dogs running back inside pulled you from your reverie. Setting the album and your phone down on the armrest of the chair, you stood up and smiled at Will. He grinned back and held up a brown paper bag.

“I got us dinner so we wouldn’t have to worry about cooking. Are you feeling any better?”

“Yep,” you responded. _Well, I’m still very confused,_ you thought._ But at least I’m amused._ You and Will ate in relative silence, every so often being interrupted by the dogs begging for a bite of your burger or for a stray fry. The silence wasn’t awkward; it felt natural. Your eyes caught his every so often and you exchanged a small smile.

“I have something that I need to get off my chest.” Will said softly, gulping. You could see the sweat glistening on his face.

“I know,” you replied. You walked over to the fridge and pulled out two beers before you returned to the floor with Will. You handed one to him and watched him take a sip, his hands shaking. “You’ve been sleepwalking, possibly hallucinating. You have nightmares.” He stared at you incredulously.

“How long have you been… aware of this?”

“Since it began,” you explained, offering Will a sad smile. “I didn’t want to… embarrass you. I knew that you were talking to Dr. Lecter about it and I could sense that you weren’t ready for me to know. I’ve been trying to watch you and make sure that you haven’t left the house again. But I can’t help but notice the nightmares. Your breath is labored and you sweat like you’re in a sauna. You should ask Dr. Lecter about prazosin, it may help.” 

“Is that what you were taking?” Will asked, and you noticed that he’d finished his beer while you were talking.

“Yes,” you sighed. “I would offer you one that I have left over but I’ve remembered that it can’t be mixed with alcohol. Apologies.”

“It’s alright.” Will gave you a small smile. “I’m grateful that you’ve been looking out for me.”

“I’ll always look out for you.” You smiled back at him, reaching out and placing your hand on top of his. “You’re my big brother. I don’t know where I’d be without you. In fact, I’ve been… having some trouble myself. I think I need to see start seeing someone.”

“We both need to be seeing someone,” Will murmured as he rubbed his eyes. “I can ask Alana if she’s taking new patients."

“Actually,” you began, your voice light. “I was thinking that I’d like to see Dr. Lecter.” Will’s expression immediately soured.

“Absolutely not,” he snapped, nostrils flaring. “I’ve told you before, I don’t want you being alone with Dr. Lecter. I don’t even want him to know that you exist.” He jumped up and began to pace the room, his annoyance even more evident.

“He’s your psychiatrist,” you retorted, crossing your arms. “You know that I can’t stand a hypocrite.”

“It’s different,” Will pleaded, stopping in his tracks and turning to face you. “We just… have conversations. You’re well aware that I care about your safety more than I care about my own. I don’t want you being dragged into this.” He gestured at himself.

“I’m a grown woman, Will!” You stood up and tried your best to give off an intimidating aura. “I can make my own decisions, and if I decide that I’d like to see Dr. Lecter, I’ll see Dr. Lecter.”

“I… I… fine.” Will’s shoulders slumped and he looked down, defeated. “His business card is in my wallet, have at it.” He extracted his wallet from his pocket and threw it down on the table. You winced, upset that you had hurt him.

“I’m sorry Will,” you mumbled, walking over to him and placing a cautious hand on his arm. “I know that you want to protect me, but I can protect myself.” He let out a sigh and pulled you into a hug.

“I know. I’m sorry I snapped.” He squeezed you tight. “I just want to keep you safe. You’re all I have.”

“And you’re all that I have. I’ll make sure I’m safe.” You heard Will yawn in your ear.

“I’m gonna head to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He squeezed you again before he headed off to his bedroom.

“Goodnight, Will.”

You weren’t ready to go back to bed. You sat at the table and pulled Will’s wallet toward you, flipping it open. You pulled the business card from one of the front slots, turning it over in your hand. It was printed on high quality stock, not that you had expected anything less. The design was simple but elegant.

_Doctor Hannibal Lecter. _

It would have been impolite to call so late, so you settled for adding the number to your phone. You cautiously slid the card back into Will’s wallet.

_Why does everything feel so real?_ You leaned back in your chair. _It doesn’t feel like a dream anymore._ You looked at the clock hanging on the wall, the time showing as 10:00 pm. You had read somewhere that clocks don’t work correctly in dreams, so you decided to test it. You looked away, staring at the wall for a couple moments, tapping your foot impatiently. You glanced back at the clock. 10:01 pm.

“What the fuck,” you whispered to yourself while rubbing your eyes. 10:02 pm. _Am I not dreaming?_ It was your turn to pace the room. _Dreaming is the only logical conclusion to my situation. Anything else is delusion or supernatural, and I’m not buying that shit. The best way to confirm this would be inflicting an injury on myself, as in dreams you can’t feel pain._

You stopped and sighed, your eyes closed. When you were high above the ground, you always had the urge to jump. Someone had once told you that it was called the call of the void. The same feeling was bubbling up in you now. You sighed, realizing that you had no reason to resist the call in this situation. You walked up to one of the windows and gazed at the snow falling softly outside, how it covered the ground in a blanket of white. It was weird for snow to fall at this time of year, but nothing in dreams makes sense.

You took a deep breath in, and slammed your fist through the glass.


	2. Chapter 2

You woke up in a hospital bed, your arm in immense pain. You looked down to see that it was bandaged and wrapped. Will was snoring in the chair next to you. You reached over with your good hand and touched his arm.

“What,” he jerked awake. His face softened when he saw you. “Oh thank god, you’re awake.”

“What happened?” You whispered as he grabbed your hand and held it.

“I could ask you the same thing.” He chucked, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. “Whenever you punched through that window, you went into shock that knocked you unconscious. You could have severed an artery and bled out. Thankfully I wasn’t asleep yet, so I heard the glass shatter.” He sucked in a deep breath. “Why exactly did you do that again?”

“I… I don’t know if I want to say.”

“You need to tell me,” he pleaded. “You shouldn’t have to hide anything from me.”

“I thought I was dreaming,” you admitted in a low whisper. “This all… doesn’t feel real to me. I feel like I know things I shouldn’t, that I know things that will happen. I thought if I hurt myself I would wake up.” Will leaned back in his chair.

“You do need to see a psychiatrist. I’ll call Dr. Lecter and see if he’s awake at this hour.”

“What time is it?” You asked as Will stood up from his chair.

“One in the morning.” He stretched slightly. “Thankfully Dr. Lecter regards me as his friend, so he won’t mind if I call.” He pulled the privacy curtain aside so he could exit and walked away.

You sighed to yourself. _ There’s no way that I’m dreaming. Time is working normally and I can experience pain. I must be delusional, but how am I supposed to get help if I can’t get out of my delusion? _ Your thoughts spiralled uncontrollably. You felt your body begin to tense as you began to hyperventilate, the knot in your chest twisting tighter and tighter.

“Shhh, calm down.” Will was back, leaned over your bed. He gently guided you to look at his face. “Breathe with me. In… out. In… out.” You mimicked his breathing as you felt yourself returning to a normal state. “Dr. Lecter was awake, said he had trouble sleeping. He wants to see you first thing tomorrow morning, as soon as you wake up. He doesn’t have any other appointments scheduled.”

You nodded weakly. Will sat back down next to you, grabbing your hand again. The doctor walked in only a few minutes later.

“Well, I understand getting angry, but I recommend that next time you just find a punching bag,” she joked. “Shattered glass can sever arteries and cut through nerves. Luckily, you didn’t sustain any major damage and we were able to remove all the shards from your arm. I hope you take this as a warning.”

“I will,” you promised. “I don’t think I’ll end up back here again, at least not for the same issue.”

“Good.” The doctor handed you a small stack of papers. “You’re free to go. The stitches should dissolve and fall out themselves. You shouldn’t get your arm wet for at least 24 hours. After 24 hours, you can wash your arm with mild soap and water, then rebandage. Keep this up for about two weeks, and then you can stop bandaging your arm. Try not to use your arm too much until the wounds are closed.”

“I understand.” You sat up, swinging your legs off the side of the bed. “Thank you.”

Will helped you stand up and guided you out of the hospital. The car ride home was silent, and you began to wonder if he was angry at you. You wouldn’t blame him- you’d severely injured yourself to prove a stupid point.

He helped you into the house and guided you to your bedroom, bringing your phone in from where you left it and plugging in your charger. You blinked wearily as he left your room, and you took the opportunity to dig through your clothes to find something comfortable to sleep in. At least your sense of style wasn’t any different. You changed clothes and settled back in bed. As you were reaching for your lamp, Will re-entered the room. He held a glass of water and a couple ibuprofen out to you. You graciously accepted and took the pills, chugging the glass of water. Will laughed and took the glass out of your hands.

“I forgot that blood loss can make you thirsty,” he winked. “I’ll go refill it.” As he walked out of the room, you looked him up and down. He had changed as well, donning a simple shirt and basketball shorts. You furrowed your brow. You thought that you would find him attractive, but there wasn’t even the slightest hint of attraction or desire. You just felt… love. Not romantic love, but a deep familial love, that you would die to protect him. He returned shortly, offering the newly refilled glass to you. You waved it away and he placed it on your nightstand.

“I hope that you don’t mind, but I’d feel more comfortable staying with you tonight.” He crawled into bed with you, and you scooched back so that he could fit, dragging your pillow with you. He sat with his back against the headboard and reached over to turn the lamp off.

“Please Will, you can lay down.”

“You know… you know that I love you right?” He repositioned himself so he was laying down next to you. You grabbed his hand.

“Yes Will, I know.” You fell asleep holding hands, drifting off into dreamless slumber.

You woke up first, slowly extricating your hand from Will’s. It was almost 10 am. You slid out of bed, remembering Will’s words from the night before.

_ Dr. Lecter wants to see you first thing in the morning. _

You felt a flush crawl up your cheeks._ Hannibal. _You hurried to the bathroom and showered as best you could without getting your bandages wet. As you were drying off, you found a blow dryer and a stash of makeup in the bathroom. They had to be yours. You dried your hair quickly, hoping the sound wouldn’t wake Will. You poked your head out of the door once you were done, but there were no signs that Will had stirred. You retreated back into the bathroom and applied a simple, yet pretty makeup look. A basic face routine, just using foundation, concealer, powder, blush, and bronzer. You giggled to yourself at the amount of work that went in to such a simple look. You swiped a slight shimmer over your eyelids and applied mascara. You defined your eyebrows and applied lip gloss as your final steps. You stepped back to regard yourself in the mirror. You didn’t think that Hannibal would appreciate heavy makeup, but hoped that you would be pretty enough for him. 

You snuck back to your bedroom, breathing a sigh of relief when you noticed that Will was still asleep. You quickly dressed yourself, choosing a black skater dress over black tights. You were meticulous in making sure that your blacks matched, including the booties you picked out. You threw on a dark grey jacket to combat the cold.

“Morning.” You whipped around to see Will sitting up, still groggy. “It’s for the best that you woke up before me. I won’t have to wait for you to complete your female grooming rituals.” He gave you a goofy smile. 

“Morning sleepy-head,” you teased.”You said Dr. Lecter wanted to see me first thing in the morning, but I don’t know where his office is.”

“Let me get dressed.” Will stood up and stretched. “I’ll take you.”

As your brother showered and dressed, you pulled your hair into a messy bun and applied perfume. You searched the room for your bag, finding underneath the desk. You threw any unnecessary items on the floor and grabbed your phone. You met Will at the door. 

“How quickly men get ready never fails to impress me,” you quipped. You headed out the door and started towards the car. 

“Once you meet Hannibal, you may think differently.” Will slid into the driver’s seat at the same time you slid into the passenger seat. He started the car and began pulling out of the driveway. “He is always..” he paused. “Immaculate.”

You had butterflies in your stomach for the whole drive. You felt yourself begin to shake slightly as you arrived at your destination, breathing deeply to calm your nerves. Will lead you to Hannibal’s office, rapping on the door.

A few seconds passed before the door swung open, Hannibal standing there in a dark blue three-piece suit. He nodded at Will before turning to you.

“Miss Graham, I presume.” He stepped aside and gestured for you to enter. You obliged, standing slightly behind him and awaiting further instructions. Hannibal instead turned back to your brother. “Please, Will, go home and get some rest. I would be more than willing to return your sister home safely after our session today.” Will began to object, but Hannibal held up a finger. “Really, Will, I must insist.” You couldn’t hear his reply, but Hannibal shut the door and turned to face you.

“Miss Graham,” he continued, holding out his hand. You held out your hand as well, expecting a handshake, but he instead grabbed your hand and brought it up to his lips. He never broke eye contact as he kissed your knuckles, lingering for a second before bringing your hand back down and letting it go. “I must say, I am enchanted to finally be in your presence.”


	3. Chapter 3

Ever the gentleman, Hannibal offered you his arm and guided you to the black chair opposite his. You sat down nervously, your hands resting on your lap and your ankles crossed. Hannibal took the seat across from you, crossing his legs before pulling a notebook and pen from the table next to him.

“So, Miss Graham, what brings you to my office?”

It took you a few moments to come back to yourself. You had been so enchanted by seeing Hannibal not through a screen, but right in front of your eyes. He sat before you in a dark blue three-piece suit, his salt and pepper hair meticulously groomed and combed. You shook your head slightly to snap out of it before you could begin mentally undressing him.

“I would have thought that Will had already informed you of my…issues.” Hannibal smirked, scribbling something in his notebook.

“This session is not about Will,” he replied, making further eye contact with you. “This is about you.” You gulped, unable to rip your eyes from his.

“I would say that I feel unhinged,” you explained. “Delusional. Last night, I punched through a window because I was convinced that I was dreaming. I had tried going back to sleep, watching the clock to see if the time changed, but nothing worked. I don’t feel like any of this can possibly be real.” You finally managed to tear your eyes away from Hannibal’s and directed your eyes instead to the floor. “I know things that I shouldn’t know. I know things that will happen.” Hannibal raised his eyebrows.

“Please elaborate. What things do you know? How do you believe that you came to know them?” You heard his pen furiously scribbling, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look up. How could you tell him that he was part of a television show that you were mildly obsessed with? How were you supposed to tell him that you knew he was a killer? Noticing your silence, Hannibal continued. “Therapy will only help if you allow it.”

“Before I woke up yesterday, I existed in a different universe.” You gave in, but elected to only reveal parts of your knowledge. “I wasn’t Will’s sister. Will didn’t even really  _ exist,  _ he was just a character on a television show. I know that he’s been sleepwalking. I know that he’s been almost hallucinating. I shouldn’t know any of that, he didn’t tell me. I know…” you stopped in the middle of your sentence to take a deep breath. “I know that he has encephalitis. I know that it will get diagnosed, but not treated. It will lead to Will having a psychotic breakdown, and everyone will think he killed Cassie Boyle, as well as others.” You finally looked back up at Hannibal to find him staring intently at you. You had hoped to gauge his reaction but his face was blank, not even a spark in his eyes to indicate what he was feeling.

“Do you share the same capabilities as your brother?” He finally spoke, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward. “Hyper-empathy, an overactive imagination?”

“I don’t have empathy like Will does.” You paused to brush your hair out of your face as you mimicked Hannibal, leaning forward. “I do have an overactive imagination. I either dreamed up an entire universe that was so vivid I became convinced it was real, or I’m hallucinating and completely delusional because this world also feels as if it has to be real. There’s no way around that.” Hannibal nodded.

“Many scientists believe that an infinite number of universes exist, where every possibility is explored. Do you believe that you could have pulled back the curtain to one of these universes?” You scoffed, shaking your head. Hannibal smiled slightly. 

“I didn’t think so. Tell me, what else do you remember from your alternate timeline?”

“Uhm….” You furrowed your brow. “I worked a job where I answered phones all day. I-”

“What was the name of the company?” Hannibal interrupted you, causing you to jump slightly. You searched your mind, but you couldn’t remember. You could clearly remember sitting in a cubicle, answering phone calls, but you couldn’t remember the name of the company or even what the phone calls were about.

“I.. I don’t know. I can’t remember,” you breathed. 

“I did speak with Will last night. I doubted that you would be able to accurately remember your past, in this life and in your dream. Will said that while you do not have similar empathy to him, you are incredibly observant. You show great skill in deductive and abductive reasoning. Will has always wondered why you chose to pursue to mortuary sciences despite these skills giving you the aptitude to succeed in academia.” He paused to assess your reaction before continuing. “Will also alerted me to the fact that you have previously been diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder. The night before this began, you were at a bar with Alana Bloom. Will noted that when you arrived home, you were extremely intoxicated and combative. You went directly to your room and locked the door. Based on those observations, what do you believe may be the cause of your psychosis?”

“I thought you were supposed to be the one diagnosing me, Doctor Lecter.” You made sure to enunciate every single sound in his name, and you saw a flash of something in his eyes.

“I have my theories, but I am interested in seeing this reasoning that Will says you possess for myself,” he retorted. You sighed and closed your eyes.

“My inability to remember specific details about what I believe to be my original life indicates that it may have been a dream. Deductive and abductive reasoning are exhausting when you are unable to turn them off, so I may have shied away from academia and other endeavors in favor of becoming a mortician, since it is a vocation that does not exercise those skills are requires little contact with living humans. PTSD can express psychotic symptoms such as hallucinations, delusions, and dissociation. The sudden onset of these symptoms may indicate that further trauma had occurred which I was not able to fully process, which would also explain why I was combative when I returned home. My knowledge of my surroundings and observations manifested itself as a television show within my dream, and the alcohol made the dream extremely vivid, which caused me to believe that it was real. That all would indicate that some trauma has occurred that I am presently repressing.” You opened your eyes to see Hannibal with a look of amusement on his face.

“You are quite intelligent,” he declared. “I had similar suspicions. We could attempt to recover your memories.”

“No,” you quickly responded. “If I have such great reasoning skills I should be able to deduce what it is that I’m repressing. Uncovering that will most likely lead to the recovery of my other memories.” You hoped that you didn’t come off too harsh. You simply didn’t trust Hannibal to not manipulate you like he had manipulated Will. To your luck, he nodded thoughtfully.

“Perhaps I should take you home. There may be indicators of your past lurking there that could remove the mental block you seem to have created.” He stood up from his chair and beckoned you to join him. “Come.”

_ “Fuuuck…” you whined. You were sitting on Hannibal’s desk, your skirt hiked up around your waist and your legs spread as far as they could go. Hannibal was right in front of you, his jacket off and vest undone as he gauged your every reaction, his fingers slipping in and out of you. _

_ “You look so marvelous like this, princess,” he purred in your ear. He curled his fingers and you arched your back as a wave of pleasure went through you, your hips desperately trying to buck up into his hand. He chuckled and reached a hand up to grab a fistful of your hair, twisting it and pulling so tight that your head was jerked back. “You know the rules.” _

_ “Hannibal… Hannibal,” you panted. Tears started to form in the corners of your eyes from the exquisite mixture of pleasure and pain. He only moved faster, curling his fingers slightly with each stroke. “Hanni- please,” you begged. He groaned as his thumb ran over your clit. _

_ “Cum.” _

“What did you see?” Hannibal’s voice snapped you back to reality. His expression seemed like muted triumph. You shook your head as you stood up.

“Nothing. I just zoned out for a minute.” 


	4. Chapter 4

In a flash, Hannibal was opening your door for you. You didn’t even realize that he had gotten out of the car.

“Thank you,” you whispered, taking his hand as he helped you out of the car. He lingered, almost as if he expected you to keep ahold of his hand. He then stepped away, striding across the front yard to the open front door where Will was already waiting. 

“So?” He demanded, crossing his arms. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine, Will.” You ran to catch up with Hannibal, sliding in front of him and hugging Will tightly. “I don’t remember much but I’m alright now. I was just going to look around to see if I could find anything that could jog my memory.”

Will stepped to the side, allowing both you and Hannibal into the house. 

“I thought it may be beneficial if I accompanied her,” Hannibal started. Will avoided eye contact with him, instead looking at you. “If the amnesia is a response to trauma, it would be best to have me around when those memories come flooding back.”

You made your way to your room while Will and Hannibal remained outside. You sighed, looking around at the walls. So, you were just crazy. You began opening all the drawers, rifling through your clothes and various other junk that filled them. You made your way over to the desk, sitting down and flipping your laptop open again. Hannibal’s google search page remained on the screen. You frowned and navigated to your browser history. It was filled with Google searches, a few research pages in between each search result.

_ Dr. Hannibal Lecter. _

_ Encephalitis. _

_ Neurological causes of sleepwalking and hallucinations. _

_ Causes of sleepwalking and hallucinations.  _

_ Sleepwalking, hallucinations, emotional outbursts, fever. _

You had managed to figure out that Will had encephalitis. You couldn’t explain why that would then lead you to look for Hannibal. You sighed and continued to search your drawers. You were sifting through the desk drawer on your left when you came across a small, dark blue velvet box. You slowly picked it up, turning the box over in your hands. It was heavy, and the velvet was soft to the touch. It was much nicer than anything else you had come across. You flipped the box open to reveal a simple but exquisite diamond pendant. You slowly lifted it from the box, examining it closer. The diamond was far larger than anything you could have afforded, maybe two or three carats. Something pushed at the back of your mind, desperate to be let free. You slowly clasped the chain around your neck.

_ “It’s beautiful,” you smiled, looking up into his eyes. “You shouldn’t have… I’m not worth this much.” Hannibal pulled you close, pressing his forehead against yours. _

_ “You would be correct. You are worth so much more than anything my money could ever buy for you.” _

_ ~ _

_ You had managed to train your body to get up in the middle of the night- all for the purpose of checking on Will. Most nights you found him soaked in sweat, tossing and turning. His breath was always laboured, like he was petrified of whatever was running through his mind. He’d started hallucinating- he thought he had fallen asleep, but his eyes were wide open and he would sometimes speak out loud. He was more on edge than usual. He kept turning the heat down lower with each passing day but he continued to sweat. You’d done a google search and come up with a few possible diagnoses, but you didn’t want to confront Will until you had a theory, especially since he had not entrusted you with information about his condition yet. You met up with Alana at the bar to discuss Will’s symptoms and recent actions. Everything she told you confirmed your hypothetical diagnosis of encephalitis- you could schedule a neurologist appointment for Will tomorrow morning. _

_ Alana had to leave early. You thanked her for her time and for her friendship, especially since she’d been covering for you when Will began wondering where you were so often. You knew that you couldn’t hide your relationship with Hannibal forever, but there was never a good way to bring it to light. Will was adamantly against you seeing Hannibal for any form of therapy, he wouldn’t even tell Hannibal that you existed. Will was just short sighted enough to realize that Hannibal could have easily found out about your existence. Not that he needed to. Despite your profession you did keep up with various academic fields: linguistics, astronomy, psychology, and psychiatry. You’d come across many of Hannibal’s articles and you couldn’t resist paying a visit once you found out that he had been treating your brother.  _

_ That first visit went quite differently than you had expected. You thought you would have a simple conversation with Hannibal, introducing yourself and discussing his recent involvement with your brother and the FBI. You didn’t expect that within ten minutes you would be on your knees in front of him as his sat at his desk, his hands knotted in your hair as you sucked his cock. He’d known who you were, as he’d read some of your articles on embalming and preservation techniques. He was just as intrigued by you as you were with him. You were discussing his drawings when you absentmindedly reached out to touch one. He grabbed your hand to stop you from smudging them, and you couldn’t help but jump at the electric shock that shot through you. You could see it in his eyes too. _

_ It was like you were made for each other. Your relationship progressed at lightning speed, from a brief sexual encounter to an intense, emotional connection. Neither of you believed in the concept of soulmates or fate, but you couldn’t deny whatever existed between the two of you. You knew everything that made him tick, from his sexual fantasies to what wines paired best with his moods. He knew the same for you, without really having to ask. Hannibal knew- _

_ Hannibal knew. _

_ You flagged down the bartender and closed your tab, storming off into the night. _

_ \-- _

_ “Hello, my love.” You texted Hannibal from the backseat of your taxi. You had him under a fake name in your phone. The level of obfuscation was exhausting. “I’m on my way over… sorry for showing up unannounced.” _

_ “There is nothing to apologize for.” He always responded so quickly. “I have not arrived home yet. Let yourself in.” _

_ You thanked the taxi driver and waved him away as you let yourself into Hannibal’s home. You poured yourself a glass of wine and relaxed on the couch by the fire for a while, but you quickly became bored without Hannibal there. You had intended to confront Hannibal, but your frustration levels were dropping the longer you were forced to wait. You wandered into the kitchen, exploring Hannibal’s fridge. The most frustrating part of dating Hannibal was that he was so adamant on preparing elaborate dishes for each meal that you could never find something to eat. Your eyes fell on the door to the pantry. You normally weren’t allowed in the pantry, but Hannibal wasn’t home. You strained your ears to listen for any sign that Hannibal would be home soon before you pushed the door open and entered. _

_ His pantry was quite extensive. Different wines, beers, ingredients for his dishes. You paused in front of the fridge, furrowing your brow. Something was off, but you couldn’t place your finger on what it was. _

_ It was the refrigerated human arm resting in the bottom left, hand still attached. _

_ You stepped back and gasped, bumping into Hannibal’s hard chest. One of his arms went around your waist to keep you still, his other arm reached up to cover your mouth and nose with a chemical-soaked cloth. _

_ ~ _

_ You groggily awoke, strapped to a chair in an unfamiliar room. _

_ “H-Hanni?” You called out, hearing footsteps behind you. _

_ “You shouldn’t have gone lurking.” He mused from somewhere behind you. “That was terribly rude.” He flicked some sort of switch behind you and a harsh light began blinking in your eyes. _

“Fuck,” you whispered, coming back to your body as your memories flooded your mind. So that was it. You’d figured out that Hannibal knew about Will’s encephalitis, how could he not have? He’d dropped the name of it a few times in casual conversation about his work, which is probably what led to you being so drawn to it when you were searching for Will’s condition. You’d gone to Hannibal’s house to confront him but he wasn’t there. You’d found the arm in his pantry and pieced everything together- the sudden emergency of copycat killings once he got involved with the FBI cases, the way Will never seemed to improve despite supposed therapy. Hannibal had found you and drugged you, had probably performed some sort of experimental treatment or hypnosis on you to make you forget. You disappearing would have been too suspicious. That’s why you were so intoxicated and combative when you got him, the drugs that Hannibal gave you probably confused you. You hastily stood up and walked out of your room.

“Hannibal, may I speak with you?” Both of their heads shot up, and Hannibal quickly nodded and vacated his seat. Will made a motion to get up as well, but you gestured for him to remain seated. “Just with Doctor Lecter, please Will.”

“Hannibal?” He muttered to himself as he sat back down. You realized that he wouldn’t be aware of the first name basis between the two of you. You stode out the door and into the snow, Hannibal on your heels. You began walking away from the house and towards the treeline, still silent.

“Have you recovered any of your memories?” He questioned, staying just behind you.

“Perhaps,” you murmured, refusing to stay another word until you were satisfied that you had disappeared from sight. You stopped abruptly, spinning on your heels to face Hannibal. He looked mildly amused and you scowled, grabbing him by the lapels of his jacket and shoving his back against a tree. “You’re a bastard, do you know that?”

“How so?” He knew that he was stronger than you. He easily could have escaped your grasp but he was content with your present actions.   


“How many people, Hannibal?” You whispered, shaking him slightly. “How many people have you fed me?”

“Several,” he chuckled. His hands slowly made their way up your sides, reaching their destination and wrapping around your neck. “It would be a shame for my hands to crush such a pretty windpipe.” You instead surged forward and captured his lips with yours, pressing your body against his. He removed his grip on your neck, one of his arms moving to wrap around your waist and his other hand remaining at the back of your neck.

“I don’t care,” you breathed as you broke the kiss. “I don’t care what you do, how many people you’ve eaten, how many people you’ve fed me and my brother.”

“You seemed to care quite a lot when I caught you in my pantry.” He held you close, burying his face in your neck. 

“I don’t care about that. I never will. I need you too much to care” You pushed him backwards so that he would look in your eyes. “I just need you to leave Will alone. I know that you’re aware of his encephalitis. I know that you’ve been influencing him, and I’m sure he makes an easy target.” He nodded, and you released his coat and instead threaded your hands in his hair. “You leave him alone. You let me make him better. I will make sure to lead the FBI, and Will for that matter, away from you should they ever come to close.”

“What a small price to pay,” he smirked. “For something as breathtaking as you.” You released him and grabbed his hand. “I assume would should probably explain ourselves to your brother.”

“Yes,” you confirmed. “Yes, we should.”  
  



End file.
